


No Distance That Could Hold Us Back

by blancafic



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Miscommunication, New Year's Eve, New Year's Resolutions, Sci-Ops Era (Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-29 13:53:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17204594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blancafic/pseuds/blancafic
Summary: On New Year's Eve, Fitz arrives home just in time to receive a belated Christmas present from Simmons.Sci-Ops era AU. (OMG they were roommates!)





	No Distance That Could Hold Us Back

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LibbyWeasley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LibbyWeasley/gifts).



> The inspiration for this story was "a Christmas present on New Year's Eve," because I wanted to give a belated gift of appreciation to the lovely and talented @LibbyWeasley. She is the best fandom friend anyone could ask for and deserves all the best things. Writing with her (and with her support and encouragement) this past year has been an absolute blast and I can't wait to do more of it in the year to come! 
> 
> Special thanks to @robotgort for stepping in as beta for this one in the midst of her holiday revelry!

_10:00 p.m. EST, December 31, 2012_

As Fitz rolls his suitcase down the hall toward the flat he shares with his best friend, weary from the long, awful plane flight, he can’t help but think how good it is to be home. 

He doesn’t remember exactly when he started thinking of this place as home, as opposed to the one he’s just come from in Glasgow. If he really considered it, he could probably narrow it down to sometime between the moment Jemma carried her first box through the door and the first meal they cooked together in the kitchen — toasted cheese sandwiches and tomato soup. It had been nice to see his mother, and to spend Christmas with her, but with each passing year he’s begun to feel more and more like a guest in the house where he grew up. Meanwhile, this ancient third-floor walk-up, with its outdating plumbing, paper-thin walls, sour smelling stairwells, and absentee landlord, has come to be the place where he feels most comfortable. His refuge from the outside world. The reason for that is simple, though he can’t afford to devote too much effort to considering it. For his own self-preservation. 

They are roommates and friends. Nothing more. He made a new year’s resolution on the plane to finally come to terms with that. To put an end to this ridiculous crush he’s been nursing since he was 17. To stop thinking about her skin and her figure and her lips and what he would do if he had access to them. She goes through boyfriends faster than his phone uses up battery life. How long was she with this last one? Three months? He refuses to be one of those guys who breezes in and out of her life with the seasons. He doesn’t have a great track record of keeping his resolutions, but this time it’s going to stick. It has to.

There is music playing when he opens the door, something soft and lilting he recognizes from Jemma’s playlist. The lights are on, but she’s not in the living room or the kitchen. 

“Hello?” he calls out. “Simmons?”

He’s so anxious to see her his stomach is doing a gold-medal-worthy gymnastics routine. He acknowledges the feeling and then pushes it away. It’s a strategy he’s testing out. If it doesn’t work he’ll try something else. And anyway, it’s normal to be little anxious to see your best friend after being apart for more than a week, isn’t it?

“In the bedroom!” she responds. There’s something strange in her voice, something new and maybe a little dangerous, though he’s probably imagining it. 

He goes to her room to find her, but she’s not there either. Her voice comes again through the walls, “In _your_ room, silly.”

Following the sound, he opens his door and promptly freezes.

Looking for all the world like something out of his wildest fantasies, she’s kneeling on his bed wearing nothing but a pair of red knickers and a wide red ribbon wrapped around her bare breasts, tied in an elegant bow right in the middle. The ribbon is large enough to cover her nipples, while still revealing the ample curves above and below. Her chestnut hair is flowing down in graceful waves, almost reaching the edge of the red stripe. Her lipstick is a near perfect match. 

It’s the sexiest thing he’s ever seen. 

Though he’s not sure he’s actually seeing it. This has to be a dream or a hallucination or maybe it's the jet lag, because no way is this actually happening. He’s never been this lucky in his entire life.

“Surprise,” she says in a low, sultry tone, and maybe this is real after all because he doesn’t ever feel like he could pass out from shock in his dreams.

* * *

**_One Hour Ago_**

Jemma wasn’t sure what she expected, but the party was a bust. The only person she really knew there was Kim, and they’d never exchanged more than a few words in passing before yesterday. All she’d known about her hostess and downstairs neighbor before agreeing to come to this bloody party was that she was a perky dental hygienist with a healthy social life who liked R&B music and aromatic cooking. Some of the guests were Kim’s co-workers, and Jemma tried to engage them with assorted facts she knew about oral health, but they didn’t want to talk shop. She recognized one or two other tenants from their building. None of them very interesting. At least the alcohol was flowing freely. 

Kim had promised her a chance to have fun and forget about Ethan. The former wasn’t looking promising, but she could work on the latter. There was a bar against a wall set with martini glasses containing something red and sweet. After finishing one she felt a little more relaxed and noticed that there were some men in attendance with rather nice physiques and objectively attractive faces. She tried engaging one she learned was called Mark. He was an EMT and she appreciated the way his shirt hugged the obvious muscles underneath. It was a promising start, but then he started going into the details of his lifting routine and she found her mind drifting to the new drone project she and Fitz had started on right before the holidays. When she realized he was waiting for an answer to a question she hadn’t heard, she excused herself and went back to the bar for another drink. This time it was bright blue and had a tropical, slightly bitter taste. Not that it mattered to her. 

If only Fitz were here, the party would be so much better. She’d have someone to talk to and maybe he’d do that thing where he pretended to fill in the dialogue for people conversing on the other side of the room. That always made her laugh. He’d probably complain about the fruity drinks and wonder if they had any proper alcohol in the house and she’d make it her mission to find him a nice imported beer or something. Naturally he’d want to stand near the food table, so he could get first crack at the fresh plates of the delicious looking nibbles as they came out of the kitchen. 

Being with Fitz made everything better. Too bad he wouldn’t be home for another day. Midnight in Glasgow had passed hours ago, though she knew they celebrated Hogmanay well into the morning. Was he still awake at this very moment? Was he thinking of her too? She grabbed another drink — not even noticing the color or taste this time — and downed it in one gulp, whispering, “Happy New Year, Fitz,” into the empty glass before clumsily setting it back on the bar.

Midnight in her time zone was still a few hours away when she decided to call it a night. At least she’d achieved one of her goals for the evening — she wasn’t thinking about Ethan anymore. She was also pretty tipsy, so that was two. Two goals accomplished. She could leave Kim’s party with her head high. 

Ethan had been nothing but a distraction anyway, the latest in a string of them. She wasn’t even sorry it was over, though she did regret the time she’d put in on that worthless idiot. She was done with all of it — men, relationships, the endless pursuit of love and commitment. It was all rubbish and she was above it. The timing couldn’t be better for her to realize it, since she had yet to make any New Year’s resolutions. So this would be hers, to start and end the year as a single, independent woman. No more dates, no more boyfriends. Just work. Well, work and Fitz. That was all she needed.

She took out her phone to delete Ethan’s number for good when she noticed she had a text message. Her heart soared when she saw who'd sent it. Maybe he’d sensed her when she’d wished him a happy new year and texted her back with glad tidings from across the pond. The rational part of her brain knew that wasn’t possible, but it was currently being drowned out by alcohol-fueled sentimentality.

As it turned out, he wasn’t in Scotland after all, but on an airport shuttle on his way home. She felt a wide grin spreading across her face and had to force herself to concentrate through the giddy high that took over her body. She devoted every working brain cell she had left to sending back a coherent reply. Her thumbs flew across the screen, heart pounded out the rhythm of his name. Fitz. Fitz. Fitz.

As they chatted, the party faded into the background. She barely looked up when Mark came back over to ask her if he could get her a drink. She politely declined and vaguely registered his disappointment before turning her attention back to her phone to read the most recent incoming message.

Fitz  
  
**Fitz:** How was your Christmas?  
  
**Jemma:** Good. How was yours?  
  
**Fitz:** Not bad. Didn't get what I really wanted, though.  
  
**Jemma:** Oh? And what was that?  
  
**Fitz:** You  
  


Had she read that right? 

She looked at it again to make sure. Yes, that’s what he’d written.

_You_

She might have been under the influence, but if she was being honest, her Christmas wish hadn’t been much different. And Fitz didn’t know she’d been drinking, so he wasn’t taking advantage of her inebriated state. He’d come out and confessed, just like that. Maybe it was their separation, the time and the distance, that had brought this on. It was unexpected, but not unwelcome. Sure, she had only just recently sworn off men for an entire year, but she’d specifically excluded Fitz, so technically it didn’t count as breaking her resolution. 

She realized that he was probably waiting for an answer from her and texted him back.

**Jemma:** Really? Do you mean it?  
  


She suddenly had the terrible thought that maybe he didn’t. Maybe he’d just been kidding. If that was the case, she needed to know now, before she got her hopes up.

**Jemma:** If you're joking, please say so right now.  
  


No answer came.

**Jemma:** Ok, you didn't say anything.  
**Jemma:** So I'm going to take that as a good sign.  
  


With a quick word of thanks to her hostess, she was out the door and flying up the stairs in a blur of motion. On the way up, she snatched the festive ribbon decorating the handrail. It may have been New Year’s Eve, but it wasn’t too late to give Fitz the perfect Christmas gift.

* * *

**_One Hour and Fifteen Minutes Ago_**

Nearly fourteen hours after taking off from Glasgow, Fitz’s plane was finally touching down back in the States. It had been a rough flight and he was crowded in a middle seat between an elderly man who snored loudly for most of the trip and a chatty young college student traveling with a group of friends spread around the plane. They kept coming up the aisle to visit and gossiping about people they knew who were getting together or splitting up or the classes they were taking next semester. Over the course of the past few hours the pounding in his head had grown into a full-blown headache and he was in a foul mood.

The closer the plane came to touching down, the more he wished he’d just stayed with his mother in Scotland. This was a bad idea. As much as he wanted to deny it, he’d cut his holiday short and hopped on an early plane to see a girl who only thought of him as a friend. A _best_ friend, but still. This endless pining was killing him. 

His mother had seen it clearly, of course. For years she’d watched and gently prodded as he sorted out his feelings for Jemma, always knowing the inevitable conclusion he’d come to on his own. Her solution after all this time was somewhat extreme, though. She had this idealized notion that life was like some sappy movie, where he’d come home to her on New Year’s Eve and she’d be so happy to see him she’d run into his arms and they’d kiss as the credits rolled. It was impressive, his mum’s optimism, considering how her own lovelife had turned out. He had to admit he admired her absolute faith in the concept of romantic love, at least when it came to him and Jemma. He didn’t share it, yet somehow he’d let her talk him into changing his flight anyway.

And now, here he was, about to land and he knew he couldn’t go through with it. He hated to disappoint his mother, but she would understand. Instead of declaring his feelings for Jemma, he would have to try harder to ignore them. She didn’t feel the same. How could she? The only foreseeable outcome was getting his heart broken, and he wasn’t too keen on that. He was even less keen on the aftermath, the awkwardness and the distance, and perhaps the eventuality of losing her for good. That was unacceptable. So friendship it would have to be. 

He made it his New Year’s resolution to get over her once and for all.

It wasn’t officially the new year yet, though, so he allowed himself to indulge in some harmless texting as soon as he boarded the shuttle on the way back to their flat.

Jemma  
  
**Fitz:** Hey, caught an early flight. On the airport shuttle now. Should be there in an hour or so.  
  
**Jemma:** Fitz!!! I was just thinking of you! You’re home!  
  


She’d been drinking. Her liberal use of exclamation points was always a dead giveaway. It made sense. It was New Year’s Eve and she was probably out partying with her boyfriend. A complication he hadn’t been able to explain to his mother.

**Fitz:** What can I say? Couldn’t wait to see you.  
  
**Jemma:** I know you’re kidding but I really needed to hear that tonight.  
  


He wasn’t kidding, but he wasn’t about to admit it.

**Fitz:** Why? What's wrong?  
  
**Jemma:** Tell you when I see you.  
  
**Fitz:** Where are you?  
  
**Jemma:** Kim's party.  
  
**Fitz:** Kim in 2B?  
  
**Jemma:** That's the one!  
  


That was odd. Why would she choose to celebrate New Year’s Eve with a neighbor they barely knew over all the other, far more romantic, options likely open to her?

**Fitz:** Is Ethan with you?  
  
**Jemma:** Nope. We broke up.  
  


It was a long time before he could respond. He pushed aside his own elation and relief — he'd never liked Ethan or the way he treated Jemma — and reminded himself that she probably didn’t share those feelings. A good friend would be sympathetic and supportive, and since he’d just renewed his dedication to that particular role, that’s what he would be.

**Fitz:** I’m so sorry. Are you ok? I can meet you at the party if you want.  
  
**Jemma:** No, meet me at home. I’m having a lousy time anyway. It’ll be good to see you.  
  


His thumbs hovered over the keyboard as he debated adding one more thing.

**Fitz:** Missed you.  
  
**Jemma:** It’s only been a week!  
  
**Fitz:** Felt longer.  
  
**Jemma:** Yeah. It did.  
  


He wasn’t sure what to say to that, so he changed the subject.

Jemma  
  
**Fitz:** How was your Christmas?  
  
**Jemma:** Good. How was yours?  
  
**Fitz:** Not bad. Didn't get what I really wanted, though.  
  
**Jemma:** Oh? And what was that?  
  
**Fitz:** You remember that Tesla biogra

He was in the middle of typing his last response when his phone battery died. He’d left the house in such a rush he’d forgotten the charging cable on the bedside table in his old room. His own scowling face stared back at him, reflected in the shiny black surface of his screen. There had to be a way to make a phone battery last longer. He’d have to look into it when he got back to work. 

* * *

**_24 Hours Ago_**

Jemma trudged through the double doors of the lobby with her shopping bags, stomping her boots on the tile to shake off the muddy snow. She'd run out for a few groceries to make herself a nice New Year's Eve meal, since her plans to go out with Ethan were off now. Better to be alone than with someone who didn't even notice you were there. If she'd thought about it, she might have expected this to happen eventually. He had a short attention span when it came to everything else, so why wouldn't that include women? The only thing he had going for him was his considerable sexual prowess, and that was hardly enough to build a relationship on. They were never meant to go the distance. Still, it was a blow to the ego, and a humiliating experience she would rather just forget. 

Even worse, the only person she wanted to talk about it with was an ocean away. It would be another two days before Fitz came home. Two days, three hours and 47 minutes, to be exact. When you cared about someone who was away, you kept track of the time until they came back.

Climbing the stairs in a daze, she nearly ran directly into her neighbor Kim, who was on her way down with a laundry basket full of clothes. 

“Hey, Jemma,” she said. Noticing her reddened eyes and cheeks, she set the basket down on the landing and gave her a sympathetic look. “What’s wrong, hon?”

“Oh, nothing much,” Jemma replied, giving her a weak smile. “Found out yesterday my boyfriend’s been cheating on me. So there’s that.”

Kim gasped. “Fitz? With the puppy dog eyes? No way. That boy is crazy about you.”

“No, no. Not Fitz.” Jemma sighed an old familiar sigh. The assumption was so common they ought to have T-shirts made, just to set everyone straight. “We’re just friends. And roommates. But no. My boyfriend was Ethan. Tall? Dark hair? Wandering eyes?”

Kim seemed to consider it for a moment, then her eyes lit up. “Hey, do you have plans for New Year’s Eve?” 

She held up the two canvas totes in her hands. “Dinner for one?” 

“Forget that. You should come to my party tomorrow night. There’ll be drinks, hot food, hot guys. Everything you need to get over a breakup.”

She didn’t know Kim all that well, but she seemed sweet and harmless. 

“I don’t know. I’m not really in the mood for a party.”

“Which is exactly why you need to come. It’ll make you feel better to get out. You shouldn’t be alone on New Year’s.”

“That’s quite nice of you. I’ll think about it.”

“Please do. Door's open at 7. You know where to find me!” And with that she picked up her basket and continued down the stairs humming a tune Jemma didn't recognize. 

* * *

**_36 Hours Ago_**

Fitz swirled the spoon around in his yogurt. His mum had cooked a full Scottish breakfast for him the first three days he was home, but by the fourth day he’d grown tired of it, something he never thought possible. This was Jemma’s influence, this craving for parfaits made of yogurt, granola, and fruit. But she only forced this healthy lifestyle on him because she cared, so he couldn’t find fault with it.

“You’re missing her, aren’t you?” 

He looked up to find his mum appraising him carefully with concerned eyes. She pulled out a chair and joined him at the table.

“No, mum,” he insisted. “I’m fine.”

She scoffed. “You are no such thing, Leo. A mother knows.”

He picked a blueberry out of the bowl and popped it into his mouth. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Fine, fine.” Holding up her hands in submission, she backed her chair away from the table and started cleaning up the breakfast dishes. “I’m not the one you should be talking to anyway.”

He threw his spoon down. It clinked against the bowl, splattering yogurt on the table. They’d been following the same script for years now, every time he visited. She would accuse him of being in love with his best friend and he’d flatly deny it. When that stopped working, he’d deny there was anything he could do about it. He knew his lines by heart.

“And what would you suggest, Mum? Some grand declaration? That’s not me. You of all people should know that.”

She put her hand on his shoulder. It was a small gesture, but comforting. He could already feel his temper ebbing. The defeatism remained, though.

“You never know until you try, son.” Her voice was soothing and took him back to the times when she’d hold him and let him cry after his da had left. It seemed to him as though her accent had gotten thicker over the years. Or maybe he’d been living in America for too long. “You know the old saying, ‘What’s fer ye will no git past ye?’ It means if something is meant to be, it’ll be. And if I know one thing, it’s that the two of you were meant to be. You’re just too thick-headed to see it. Both of you. So I’ll make you a deal. You tell that girl how you feel about her. Doesn’t have to be anything grand, just three little words. Do that, and I’ll say naught more about it.”

She made it sound like such a small thing, but it was everything.

“What if she doesn’t feel the same?”

“Who wouldn’t love you?” She pinched his cheek and picked up a stack of dishes to carry to the sink, confident that the seed she’d planted would be quick to sprout. 

“That’s not helping,” he grumbled.

* * *

**_48 Hours Ago_**

There was only one person Jemma wanted to see when she arrived home from her holiday, but he was in Scotland, so she settled for her second choice. Ethan’s place was only about a mile from theirs and the weather wasn’t too cold, so she figured she’d walk over as soon as she unpacked her bags and had a shower. She’d texted him earlier to let him know she was dropping by and got a quick, if unenthusiastic, one-word response: “Ok.”

She knocked once and heard nothing on the other side, so she dug into her bag for the key he’d given her. It had seemed like a romantic gesture at the time, until he informed her he was going out of town and needed her to pick up his mail and feed his fish. It was lucky for him that he was attractive. An average-looking man wouldn’t be able to get away with half the nonsense he pulled. 

She unlocked the door and poked her head inside. He’d have told her if he wasn’t home, wouldn’t he? He should have been expecting her. She’d worn her best black lace knickers and bra, just for the occasion.

“Ethan? It’s Jemma. I’m here!”

There was a sound coming from the bedroom, so she headed in that direction. The sounds became louder, and more pornographic, the closer she got. Ethan’s voice was easy to make out, but he wasn’t alone. There were softer, higher-pitched sounds mingled in with his low moans.

The door wasn’t closed, so she nudged it aside and found exactly what she’d expected to find as soon as she’d heard the telltale noises echoing through the flat. Ethan was hovering naked over a woman she’d never seen before. Her brightly painted nails dug into his bare arse. The woman noticed Jemma standing in the doorway first and slapped him to get his attention. He briefly stopped thrusting and turned around toward her, muttering, “Shit,” under his breath.

“Indeed,” Jemma said, turning on her heel. She was prepared to wait for him in the living room while he made himself presentable, curious to hear his explanation for the scene she’d just witnessed. He didn’t bother getting dressed, though, and followed immediately after her, pointing accusingly, as if she was the one who’d transgressed.

“What are you doing here, Jemma?” he asked in a frustrated tone.

“I told you I was coming over!” she shouted. “What are _you_ doing?”

“You didn’t say when. I thought you were still in England.” It was hard to take him seriously in his naked state. If she wasn’t so infuriated she’d be laughing.

“I got in this morning. Which you’d have known if you’d even noticed I was gone.”

“I don’t follow your every move. I’m not some stalker.”

“It’s called being a concerned boyfriend.”

“We never said we were exclusive.”

She began to pace, gesticulating wildly with her hands as she talked. “No. You’re right. We never explicitly said that. So, apparently, this is all my fault. You are totally blameless in this.”

“Glad we got that settled.”

She couldn’t tell whether he meant it. She didn’t care anyway. With an annoyed huff, she turned to leave, making a brief stop by the bedroom door on her way out.

“Enjoy yourself,” she told the other woman, who was still in the bed with the sheet pulled up to her chin. “It’s pretty much the only thing he’s any good at.” 

She leveled him with an icy glare, then made her exit without looking back.

* * *

**_Now, Again_**

Fitz can’t stop staring. 

He should go to her. He should do something. Say something. She’s starting to look worried. It’s probably not the reaction she was hoping for, but he still can’t believe his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she says, slipping off the bed and covering herself with one arm. It doesn’t obscure much more than the ribbon did. Her face is nearly just as red. “This was a bad idea. Excuse me.”

He shakes his head, still unable to make sense of his jumbled thoughts, let alone translate them into words. The only part of his traitorous body that seems to understand what’s happening is his rapidly hardening nether region.

She’s about to leave, and he may never get a chance like this again, so he grabs her gently by the wrist. If this is real he’ll never forgive himself for screwing it up. 

“Wait, Simmons.” She stops, looking at him with watery eyes. He doesn’t know what’s happening right now, but he knows what rejection looks like on her. That, more than anything, is what finally clears his head. “Please don’t go. I’m just trying to catch up here.”

“I thought . . . never mind. It doesn’t matter.”

The tears are falling in earnest now. She sniffs as he pulls her into his arms.

“Course it matters. What was it you thought? I seriously don’t know.”

“I wanted to surprise you. I thought you . . . I don’t know . . . wanted . . . me?” It comes out as a question, which is crazy because there’s no questioning his attraction where she’s concerned. “I’m so stupid.”

That makes him laugh, and her expression turns from mortification to offense to confusion in three blinks.

“Jemma.” He uses her first name, because it feels right for the moment. He needs her to listen closely to what he has to say. “You are a lot of things, but stupid is not one of them. You’re the smartest person I know. Full stop. _Of course_ I want you. I want you so much I’m having trouble believing this isn’t a dream.”

“Really? So you weren’t joking?” 

“Yes, really.” He’s tempted to kiss all her doubts away right then and there, but first he needs to clear something up. “Wait. When was I not joking?”

“Your text message. It said—”

“My battery died,” he interrupts, finally catching on. Now things are starting to make more sense. “I was replying to you when it blacked out.”

He thinks back to the beginning of the sentence he was typing, and the question she’d asked right before it. 

Oh. 

It may not have been what he’d intended to send, but that didn’t make it any less true. And if this is her response to his accidental declaration, it turned out better than he could have ever hoped.

“Ah.” And she’s back to looking miserable again.

He rubs his hands up and down her arms. She’s still practically naked and he’s still half hard and he just wants to get past this so they can get to the good part already. Not just the sex, but everything that comes after that too. 

“Hey, that doesn’t mean this isn’t a wonderful surprise. To be honest, it’s probably the most amazing thing that’s ever happened to me.”

He marvels at the way her eyes shine and her face beams when she hears the words, committing it all to memory for future reference.

“Now, about my present,” he says, raising his eyebrows. 

She smiles even wider and leans up to kiss him. He meets her halfway.

Without looking, he reaches down for the ribbon, careful not to cross any boundaries prematurely. Her hand covers his and guides him to a loose end. Together they tug, untying the bow until it falls away.

“Merry Christmas, Fitz.”

“Happy New Year, Jemma.”

* * *

**_Now, Later_**

“Well that has got to be the shortest lived New Year’s resolution in history,” he tells her later, as she snuggles into his side. She’s soft and warm and fits just right. “I was determined to get over you this year. No way is that gonna happen now.”

He can feel her laughter on his skin, another amazing new sensation he’ll never get enough of. “And I swore off men,” she says. “All men except you, of course. I think I can manage to keep that one.”

“I'm counting on it.” He drops a sweet kiss on her nose, which wrinkles up adorably in response.

"Oh, I almost forgot!" She sits up in bed, providing a spectacular view of what was underneath the ribbon earlier — and in his hands just a few minutes ago — and scoots toward the edge.

"Where are you going?" he asks, hoping he doesn't sound as needy as he feels.

"To the kitchen." She leans down for a quick kiss, as natural as if they've been doing this for years. "I'll be right back. You stay and keep the bed warm."

She's not gone long, but the room feels empty without her. He hears her rustling about in the kitchen, then a distinctive pop, and the sound of something being poured. When she returns she's holding two filled champagne flutes.

"I thought we could toast at midnight," she says. "Or is that too corny?"

"I like corny," he says automatically.

"You do not." Under normal circumstances, she'd be right. It's another reminder that this is _Jemma Simmons_ he's with, who knows him better than anyone. He still can't quite believe it. She puts the glasses on the nightstand and slinks back under the covers. He kisses the top of her head as she lays it on his chest.

"In this case I think I can make an exception."

She glances over at the clock on the nightstand. "It’s not quite midnight yet. Still enough time to make a new resolution if you want to.”

“Okay,” he says, thinking carefully about how he wants to word it. “Then I resolve to _not_ get over you, and instead devote all my effort to lavishing you with the love and attention you so richly deserve.”

“I hope this one lasts longer than your usual resolutions,” she warns with a playful smirk and a light poke to his side.

“I have a feeling it’s going to last a lot longer than that,” he says, meeting her eyes so she knows he’s completely serious. “How does forever work for you?”

**Author's Note:**

> Happy New Year, fandom! Here's to an awesome 2019.
> 
> Title inspired by a lyric from "The New Year" by Death Cab for Cutie.
> 
> I'm @blancasplayground over on tumblr if you feel like saying hello!


End file.
